


Eyeliner

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: During Canon, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-21
Updated: 2006-08-21
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8706322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: "Entertain me, Sammy."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

Title: Eyeliner  
Author: closetcrombie  
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean  
Rating: NC-17, straight up  
Category: slash  
Word Count: 3384  
Spoilers: none  
Summary: "Entertain me, Sammy."  
Warnings: Incest, oral sex...uh, Dean in make up? Is that something you need to be warned of?  
Disclaimer: I hereby disclaim everything that, by law, has to be disclaimed.  
Notes: I'm back, with smut. And Dean wears eyeliner. Yis.  
  
  
 

  
They pull apart, breathing heavily, and Sam’s back hurts where Dean’s unexpected assault slammed him into the edge of the small table of their room.  
  
Sam had been out restocking their diminished medical supplies (will there ever be a time that he ceases to feel like a total asshole for stealing from a hospital?), and had just gotten back into the room when Dean had shoved him into the nearest hard surface (because the nice, soft-looking bed, a mere few feet away, was just too much to ask for, really) pressing the full length of his body against him, grinding their hips together and _hel-lo_ Dean, it’s nice to see you, too.  
  
His brother lets him breathe for a second, considerate boy, before diving back in, lips hot and slick with something Sam can’t identify, tongue snaking out to pass quickly over the seam of his lips, and his mouth opens instantly, as it always does. Their breathing is loud and harsh in Sam’s ears when they separate again, and before he can ask Dean what brought this on, his brother’s lips are on his, but softer this time, teasing.  
  
He feels a light kiss on the corner of his mouth, and it opens slightly to allow his pleasured sigh to escape. Dean’s lips brush lightly over his, gliding smoothly with something Sam knows he’s tasted before. He can’t place it just now, though, because Dean’s teeth catch on his lower lip and his brother sucks lightly, the slight pressure making Sam’s knees feel weak. His lip is released, sliding slowly, sensuously from between Dean’s teeth, and he groans, the sound breathier than he would like to admit.  
  
He looks down at his brother, and Dean’s lips are kiss-bruised, dark, and pouty, and Sam’s hands run up and over Dean’s back to card through his hair. He angles his brother’s head and leans in slowly, feeling the damp heat of Dean’s breath on his face, and presses their lips together gently. He pulls back slightly to see Dean, eyes closed, smiling, lips a dark smear of…something.  
  
One of Sam’s hands run down Dean’s face, ghosting over his cheek to come to rest with his thumb pressing lightly on his brother’s plump, reddened lower lip while his other fingers curl into the sensitive flesh behind Dean’s ear. He rubs his thumb over Dean’s lips, watching the stark color spread with his finger, and he lets out a surprised breath as he realizes what the substance is, and remembers why he knows the taste.  
  
Dean is wearing lipstick.  
  
‘ _Well…this is new_.’  
  
But even as the thought crosses his mind, the undeniable allure of the message his brother is sending goes straight to Sam’s cock, and he grinds up and into Dean’s hips, crushing their lips together again to delight in the slip-slide of mouth on mouth. When they separate, Dean’s lips are open, blurred, bruised underneath the darkness of his lipstick, and his eyes are dark, wanting, adding to the over all image of debauchery he is portraying.  
  
Sam’s thumb makes another pass over his brother’s plump lower lip, and Dean sucks it into his mouth. He feels teeth grazing against his fingertip, tongue following soon after, winding around the digit, and he sighs as Dean sucks on his finger lightly before withdrawing it from its confines and he continues running it over his stained lips.  
  
As he looks down at his brother, Sam notes that Dean’s eyes are also unnaturally dark, and his hands move to investigate. His fingers dance along Dean’s cheeks, connecting freckles like he used to do as a child, and when he runs a fingertip directly underneath his brother’s lower lash line, it comes away streaked with darkness.  
  
He breathes out heavily as Dean’s eyes close, and he drags the pads of his thumbs over his brother’s eyelids, the kohl and mascara blending into a mixture that stains Dean’s skin. Sam loses his breath again when Dean’s eyes open - the green seeming so much darker, framed by the ruined make-up - and he can’t help the way his hips roll up into Dean’s waiting body.  
  
His brother’s lips press quickly to his again, taunting Sam with barely-there contact before they move downwards, tracing a slick line down the column of his neck. Dean growls in frustration as his progress is hindered by Sam’s shirt, and he grabs hold of both sides, preparing to rip it open. Sam’s hands close around his wrists before he can accomplish that, muttering, “Just because you’re a slut doesn’t mean you get to ruin my clothes, Dean,” and he proceeds to push his brother backwards and onto the bed just behind him.  
  
Dean’s legs connect with the side of the bed, and he sits, smirking up at his brother. His left hand grinds down into his own erection, present since he started applying his make up, while the fingers of his right hand weave through the belt loops of Sam’s jeans and he pulls his brother closer, impatiently demanding that Sam lose the shirt unless he never wants to be able to wear it again.  
  
Sam grins at that, fingers deftly moving to slip buttons through holes and (“Fucking finally.”) Dean’s kohl-rimmed eyes are able to gaze upon the broad expanse of Sam’s chest, his flat, muscled stomach, the sharp jut of his hipbones. He nuzzles the skin right above Sam’s navel, mouthing the muscles twitching under his lips, and when he sits back, he admires the way the smear of dark, wine-colored lipstick contrasts with his brother’s tanned flesh.  
  
Dean leans forward again, this time nipping at the taut skin of Sam’s stomach, as his hands work at freeing his brother’s cock from its denim confines. Sam sighs when Dean’s hand finally makes contact with his dick, fingers grazing along the sides of his shaft before closing around it fully and lifting it carefully out of his jeans.  
  
Sam’s cock is hard and heavy in Dean’s hands, and he groans as he breathes in the heady scent of his brother’s arousal. He pumps his hand up and down Sam’s cock a few times for good measure before lowering his head and flicking his tongue out to gather the drops of fluid already collecting there.  
  
Sam looks down at his brother, straining to keep his hands lax at his sides while Dean gets reacquainted with his prick. He hisses when he feels the tongue touching his cock, and he can’t help the way his hips thrust forward at the unexpected sensation, his dick leaving a slick, shiny trail of precum on Dean’s cheek. He hears the laughing admonition to calm down and groans, because he knows now that Dean’s in the mood for teasing – which means this either won’t end any time soon, or it won’t ever really _get started._  
  
All of a sudden, Dean takes Sam’s cockhead fully into his mouth, and here Sam thinks that maybe he was wrong about Dean being in a teasy sort of mood, teeth scraping just so over the hyper-sensitized skin and Sam’s breath comes in gasps because _damn_ but that always gets him. Dean slides the flat of his tongue over the already damp flesh, dipping it shallowly into Sam’s slit before sucking as hard as he can and then letting go with an obscene, wet ‘pop’.  
  
Sam keens low in his throat, and his hips press forward of their own accord, following the heat of Dean’s mouth. He opens his eyes and there is Dean, staring at his cock and grinning in an oddly self-satisfied way, though, for what reason Sam can’t be bothered to figure out just now, because the stark contrast the white of Dean’s teeth make with the dark, deep red of his lipstick is somehow entrancing.  
  
Sam pulls Dean up by the collar of his shirt, crashing their lips together again, and he can taste himself on his brother’s tongue, heavy and bitter. Dean pulls away, this time sliding back until he is completely laid out on the bed, and he locks his hands behind his head and gazes at Sam for a moment – eyes darker and even more intense than usual from the somewhat smeared eyeliner and mascara. His next words take Sam by surprise.  
  
“Entertain me, Sammy.”  
  
Sam lets out an annoyed breath after the words register.  
  
“Dean. I barely have time to get in the door before you’re slamming me into a really fucking sharp corner of a table that is conveniently back-level,” Dean looks particularly smug at that, and Sam presses ahead, “and then I find out that you’ve apparently either been stealing from hookers or spending money that we _don’t_ have on make up so you can doll yourself up to look like, what? Tammy Faye?” As Dean squawks indignantly, Sam finishes up with, “All of that, though, I was willing to forgive, if you were willing to blow me. And now you’re telling me that you want _me_ to entertain _you_?”  
  
Dean raises an eyebrow – a very, very shapely eyebrow and really? Sam is so not getting into that right now – and gives him a look that practically screams, ‘You got into _Stanford_?’ Then he says, “That sounds about right, yeah,” and grins.  
  
Sam stares at his brother for a few seconds, torn between helpless laughter and the desire to throttle him. Ultimately, though, he opts for crawling onto the bed, grinning back at Dean’s cock sure smirk, still somewhat hypnotized by the sight of his brother in make up.  
  
Straddling Dean’s thighs, Sam reaches up and splays his fingers across the broad expanse of muscle that makes up his brother’s chest, fingers lightly caressing Dean’s nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt. He drags his fingers down Dean’s torso, the catch-release of his fingernails and the cotton a familiar sensation, and he breathes, “Entertain me? You’re such a dickhead, Dean.” When his hands go beneath the hem, Dean takes the hint and lifts a bit, extending his arms so that Sam can fully remove the garment, grinning devilishly at his brother’s soft-spoken complaint.  
  
Sam’s eyes take in the sight of Dean’s upper body reverently, though it has to be somewhere close to the millionth time by now. His brother isn’t exactly littered with scars – and whether that’s a testament to skill or luck Sam hasn’t quite decided yet – but there are a good number of them present, some gone white with age, others fresher, still slightly pink against the golden-brown of Dean’s skin.  
  
He notes, absently, that Dean has driver’s tan – one arm slightly darker than the rest of his body from all the driving he refuses to let Sam do (“Fuck that, Sam. You don’t touch this car until you turn twenty-one.”) – and finally moves up so that he’s straddling his brother’s chest.  
  
Dean’s smirk stays in place through all of this, and Sam has to fight the urge to lean down and kiss the smugness off his brother’s face.  
  
Instead, he grabs his cock and starts to pull roughly on it, laughing breathlessly as Dean’s eyes widen in surprise.  
  
“Betcha weren’t expecting me to get to the _entertainment_ quite that fast, huh Dean?”  
  
Dean’s hands come down to grasp at Sam’s thighs, the denim of his pants taut against the muscle underneath, and Sam absently notes that at least his fingernails aren’t painted, score one for Dean’s remaining masculinity, before he feels the hot slickness of lipstick and saliva on his cock. His hips thrust forward of their own accord, and when Dean pulls off to smile nastily up at him, Sam’s breath catches at the sight of the smeared ring of lipstick surrounding the head of his prick.  
  
Sam decides that maybe they can set aside a few dollars a month for Dean to have a cosmetics fund.  
  
“Oh, fuck.”  
  
Dean’s laugh is deep and sultry, and Sam thinks he should be marginally disturbed by how hot he’s finding this, but then Dean urges him up and suddenly Sam’s cock is buried in his brother’s mouth again, and the only thing Sam can think then is, ‘ _Jesus fucking Christ!’_  
  
Sam’s eyes focus on the way Dean’s lips are stretched obscenely around his prick, the smeared lipstick and ruined eyeliner making his face seem to glow in the relative dim of their motel room. He feels the ridges on the roof of Dean’s mouth, the gentle scrape of teeth on the shaft of his cock, and the silk sandpaper of his brother’s tongue in startling clarity. When he drives in a bit too deep and hears Dean coughing around his dick, and the way Dean’s eyes water makes his mascara run, and in that moment Sam feels wickedly like he really is debauching his older brother.  
  
Then Dean sucks particularly brutally, and those teeth suddenly become a lot less gentle, and even as Sam’s low groan fills his own ears, he can feel his brother smirk around his cock.  
  
Sam’s hands, free since Dean started this oral assault, come up to wind through his short hair, and Sam slams his hips forward, driven now by not only the pleasure of Dean’s tongue and teeth blazing a trail of sensation that’s just this side of painful, but also by the dirty desire to see his brother act more like the whore he’s painted himself up to resemble.  
  
As Dean moans around his cock, Sam reaches behind himself to free Dean’s prick from his jeans, determined to give just as good as he was getting. While he steadily fucks Dean’s mouth, delighting in the harsh, grating sounds of Dean’s groans and his shallow, rapid breathing, Sam works his brother’s cock out from his pants and starts to stroke it roughly, knowing that the friction from his dry hand will drive Dean out of his mind until his precum starts to slick the way.  
  
Dean pulls back enough to lave at the head of Sam’s cock with his rough, wet tongue, and when Sam gets the urge to lean down and kiss him, he acts on it.  
  
Dean’s lips are soft, bruised, and a deep, vibrant red, and Sam tastes himself on them. He drives his tongue deep into Dean’s mouth, tangling it with Dean’s and groaning when one of Dean’s hands takes up where Sam had forced his mouth to leave off.  
  
Deft fingers circle the head of Sam’s cock, and he mimics the action on Dean’s, smirking into their kiss when Dean hisses. The hand on his prick slides down smoothly, eased by spit and precum, and Sam’s follows the same course of action, only the stroke of his hand is more harsh, not yet lubricated enough to ease the way.  
  
But, if the way Dean’s breath just hitched is anything to go by, it doesn’t seem as though he really cares about that just now.  
  
Sam takes a moment to suck harshly on Dean’s tongue and savor the taste of the two of them, together, before he sits upright again, and Dean’s mouth is dutifully put back to work, trying it’s hardest to suck Sam’s brains out through his dick.  
  
Sam’s hand is hot and rough on Dean’s prick, and as he strokes, the movement becomes easier. Tightening his grip to accommodate the slickness of Dean’s precum, Sam soon has his brother thrusting up into his fist and keening low in the throat on every upstroke. Whenever Sam does something that Dean really likes he is rewarded with a scrape of teeth against his erection, or a hot tongue playfully swiping over the head of his cock.  
  
Sam strokes harder, and faster, aiming to get Dean off as quickly as he can, because the awkward angle of his arm is making it start to cramp. He pulls out all the stops, using every trick he knows that will make Dean scream. He rubs his thumb on the spot just underneath the head of Dean’s cock that makes his eyes roll back in his head, he grips the base of his cock and pulls, tightening his fist all the way up until Dean is moaning steadily underneath him.  
  
In the end, though, what makes his brother come is a total accident.  
  
As Sam’s fingers dance their way over the head of Dean’s cock, Dean’s oral exploration of Sam becomes more and more daring. Sam feels one of Dean’s fingers circling his asshole, running up and down the cleft of his ass, smoothly rubbing his perineum, and Sam takes that as Dean’s way of saying, “Hurry the fuck up,” with his mouth full. At the same time, Dean’s finger suddenly stops _circling_ this asshole and is _inside_ it and his teeth nip harshly at Sam’s cock, so the fingernails that were just scratching at Dean’s dick suddenly catch in his piss slit and that’s all it takes.  
  
Dean’s eyelids flutter, and the way he bucks his hips nearly throws Sam off. He moans deep in his chest, and the vibrations of it around Sam’s dick make Sam moan in turn. Dean pulls his finger out of Sam’s asshole, pulls off Sam’s cock to breathe out, “Oh, god _damn_ ,” and then Sam’s fingers are coated with Dean’s come.  
  
After Dean can think again, he looks up at Sam and says, “That hurt, you asshole.”  
  
Sam grins down at him, but instead of saying anything, he brings his come-covered hand around to his mouth and sucks on his middle finger. Dean hisses his approval, and Sam’s fingers go down to make a quick pass over his brother’s lips. The red of his lipstick, shiny now with Dean’s own spunk, is enough to make Sam grab his cock and start jerking it roughly.  
  
Dean’s hand goes down to roughly knead Sam’s balls, and Sam cries out his pleasure loudly. His strokes slow some when Dean’s tongue comes out to lap delicately at his cockhead, and Sam groans again when his brother licks his lips, gathering the come Sam had placed there and spitting it back onto Sam’s dick.  
  
With his way eased by Dean’s saliva, his own precum, and his brother’s come as well, Sam’s strokes become smooth and measured. He squeezes hard as his hand goes down, and twists lightly on the upstroke, wanting to take his time now that Dean has gotten off.  
  
But then Dean looks up at him from beneath his artificially darkened eyelashes and says, “Sammy, I want you to come on my face.”  
  
Sam’s reaction is instantaneous. He grips his cock brutally tight, and his strokes become erratic. His breath comes in shallow pants, and he starts to thrust his hips up into the air. He feels Dean’s finger return to his ass, thick and blunt, and when it forces its way inside of him, finding his prostate with an almost scary amount of ease, Sam sees white.  
  
Dean’s breath catches at the sight of Sam coming. His head is thrown back, hair sticking to the damp skin of his flushed face, the tendons in his neck cord with strain. Sweat from his shoulders traces a slow path down the ridges and planes of his chest, and Dean’s eyes follow the trail hungrily until it reaches the denim of Sam’s jeans, and then Dean has something else to stare at completely.  
  
Sam’s cock is red, spit-slick, and shiny, and as he watches his brother stroke the last of him orgasm out of him, Dean shudders, finally noticing the hot slickness on his own face that can only be Sam’s come.  
  
Opening his eyes, Sam looks down to see Dean’s face, flushed as red as his own surely must be, but striped now, creating a ridiculously arousing contrast between the deep red of his lipstick, the darkness of his eyeliner, and the white of his spunk. Seeing it makes Sam’s cock twitch, and he shivers, moaning, “Oh, God.”  
  
Taking a deep, shaky breath, Sam slides off Dean’s chest and moves to lie beside him. Grinning, he looks over at his brother and mutters, “How was _that_ for entertainment?”  
  
After sliding his fingers through the mess of his face and bringing them down to lick them clean (making Sam’s breath hitch, again), Dean sighs and looks up at the ceiling.  
  
“I don’t know, Sammy. I think I might go to the movies later.”  
  
Sam nods his head in acknowledgement.  
  
"Yeah, that sounds like a good ide--"  
  
The slow grin that steals across Dean's face at his pause takes the sting out of his insult, and Sam just pinches his nipple instead of punching him in the balls.  
  
"Fuck you, you transvestite."  
  
Dean's rich laughter fills the room, and Sam smiles, content for the moment with just being with Dean.  
  
Cross-dressing tendencies and all.  
  
~


End file.
